


The Reluctant Suitor

by Juldooz



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Avoidance, F/M, Happy accidents, Mistletoe, Pining, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21948829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juldooz/pseuds/Juldooz
Summary: Sherlock can feel his long held beliefs toward sentiment and romantic relationships slipping.But, after years of hard fought, deep-rooted, firmly engrained habits, will he be able to make a definitive change?
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Comments: 11
Kudos: 106
Collections: Sherlolly Secret Santa: 2019





	The Reluctant Suitor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MizJoely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/gifts).



> Something festive for Sherlolly Secret Santa 2019.  
> Beta'd again by the ever wonderful forthegenuine. Seriously. She's a gift!  
> This was a lot of fun! I enjoyed writing this and participating in the celebrations this time around. I hope you all enjoy it, especially Mizjoely.  
> This is for you!

Since the beginning of their acquaintance Sherlock has patently avoided Molly in one way or another. He worked with her, obviously. She was the best pathologist at Barts! Very competent and usually agreeable to his requests. So, in this one way he allowed them to interact. 

But in all other ways, he prevented any manner of entanglement with one Miss - Doctor - Molly Hooper. 

He couldn’t be bothered to notice her lipstick, such a detail was below his concern. It wouldn’t help for him to know that her favorite shade was an aptly named Goddess Pink, or that it perfectly complemented her blush. 

He routinely discouraged her humor, morbid as it was, it would not do him well to have her laughing and smiling at him. Even worse if he were to laugh and smile back at her.

He certainly didn’t _care_ about her prospective boyfriends, but one after another they grew exponentially more irritating. He found their presence in the lab disruptive to the work and that was simply unacceptable. Not only did they lower the IQ of the general area, but they also had a habit of making plans with Molly in front of Sherlock, taking her away from the morgue and occupying much of her time. The fact that he treated these overt territorial displays as an opportunity for him to covertly confirm her safety with these men was simply happy accident. He was simply taking the necessary precautions. And surely the safety of his pathologist was something of the utmost importance. 

More than all the rest, Sherlock Holmes prided himself on his ability to refrain from touching. Such actions muddled the mind and confused professional relationships for personal ones. This was his firmly held belief regarding touching, so he strictly ignored any opportunity when it was presented. 

He just didn’t do it. 

Especially with her. 

At least that's the way it was for a long time. 

It wasn’t until he returned from his four minute exile.

Sherlock didn’t break all his rules, at least not right away. He resented the idea that he would forsake all the marks of his identity which he held most dear. 

He just stopped fighting to hold on to some of them so rigorously. 

First came the looking. He watched as she worked, taking out a body and beginning with a careful inspection of said body, artfully preparing it for autopsy, as per procedure. Her technical perfection of the internal examination was enchanting. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her careful hands and her little scrunched up nose as she bit her tongue with expert focus. 

These observations always left him a little bit breathless. His face would grow warm and he could feel the frisson building in his chest and radiating out toward his limbs, only adding to the longing for more of her time that he was beginning to feel whenever he was in her company. He drew out every interaction to the last moment, reordering his priorities so that even a higher ranking case had occasionally been ignored far longer than usual. 

Next, he allowed himself to enjoy Molly’s jokes. She wasn’t funny, at least not what others typically considered as funny, but he found her all the more endearing for it. The awkward lull in the conversation in which she took a moment to decide if she should go for it and say what was on her mind. The stilted and dreadful way in which she delivered her terrible pun, as if she was still uncertain about her choice to share it, but was now committing to the bit. And the damned adorable snort she inevitably gave when she’d really found herself humorous. To all of these he relished and would even allow the occasional laugh. Not shying away from the inevitable looks, both from Molly and whatever company they shared. 

Requesting her to bring body parts for experiments, and requiring her to remain and assist him in his endeavours still was the closest he was willing to get to _dating_ . Mainly he remained uncertain of what he would do with himself in a romantic situation. There were so many things going against him, his frustratingly one track mind, and conversely his ability to go off on a detail of a case and find himself brought back to the world around him, often hours later. And his complete lack of tact, his ability to unknowingly hurt the people he cared about with his words were sure to be problems for him. Mercifully, it seemed that after her relationship with Meat Dagger that she had, for the moment, finished looking for suitors and seeking out romantic partners. He hadn’t been sniffing around her at work anymore so he was blissfully unaware of any dates in her calendar. Of course, if _he_ didn’t observe any signs of dating on her, then it probably was not happening.

~oOo~

After weeks of lingering looks and making excuses in order to draw out his time with her, Sherlock was finally thrown into a situation that was surprisingly outside his control, enough so that it could not be avoided. If it were up to him he would remain as they were indefinitely, so as to thwart any possibility of failure or rejection. 

On that particular day, Sherlock and John were sitting in 221B, facing opposite each other in their respective chairs. John was combing through emails as Sherlock absentmindedly plucked away at his violin, dismissing one case after the other. Perhaps it was the fact that he’d already texted Molly about that extra foot he knew was wasting away in the morgue, or perhaps it was the fact that she’d already responded and promised to bring it by after her shift, but all of the cases presented currently felt like a 6 or lower. 

John did seem to notice something amiss, mainly because one request in particular that normally ranked as high as a 7 was summarily written-off as “unchallenging”. John simply rolled his eyes and flagged that one in order to revisit it on another day.

A couple of hours later, John poked around on the blog looking for entries to update while Sherlock rummaged around in the kitchen behind him, when they received a call from Lestrade. Surely this one is unavoidable, for who would have thought that Sherlock would need a push to follow the lead on a 9?! After a few glances at the clock and a couple dramatic huffs in annoyance, Sherlock agreed that needs must, and they were off. 

Meanwhile, just as the energy was beginning to shift upstairs, Molly made her arrival. Cooler box in hand, Molly tapped the knocker on the large black door and waited, shifting the box awkwardly from holding it with two hands in front of her, to under one arm, and back, trying to decide which seemed more comfortable and careless. She just readjusted herself to hold the box in front of her once more, when the door swung open. 

Instead of a greeting, however, she was met with a firm, well-dressed chest, _smack_ , in her face! Dropping the box and reflexively bringing her arms up to defend herself or balance herself, readying herself for whichever seemed the most necessary once her brain caught up with her instincts, she caught hold of something solid and held on tight. 

Sherlock ran straight into Molly, not aware that she was so close to arriving. His arms came up around her in immediate concern as she attempted to right herself. He attentively assisted her in regaining her balance, unwilling to pull back, allowing her to be the first to move away. Now they were chest to chest with their arms wrapped around each other standing on the top step to the open doorway of Baker Street, staring, stunned, all agendas quiet forgotten. After nearly a minute it was John who broke the silence. 

In his surprise at the suddenness of Molly’s appearance, John too was dazed for a moment. But as what he had witnessed began to sink in, he noticed a couple things that brought him great joy. 

Firstly, this was not the chance accident of two people who were wholly unaffected by each other. Both Molly _and_ Sherlock were greatly affected by such close proximity to the other, each taking on an expression that clearly stated the extent to which they were affected. Softened gazes, easy smiles and light tinge of blush across their faces. That and they still encircled themselves in a warm embrace. Secondly, the mistletoe. Yes, it was nearly February and it had long since browned, but Mrs. Hudson had forgotten to remove it, so there it stayed. 

As John finally broke from his astonished stare he gave a slight chuckle and pointed, nodding in the direction of the yuletide leftover, “Oh, I suppose that should’ve been taken care of by now, but have a kiss and let’s get going.” He goaded Sherlock, then distractedly added, “Wait, Molly, what’d you come by for anyway?”

Primarily spurred on by John’s observation of the small plant, and largely ignoring everything else that was said, Sherlock cautiously leaned his head forward as Molly timidly lifted her chin, their lips meeting in the middle. Sherlock tightened his hold on her by pulling his splayed hands on her back closer to himself. As she adjusted with him, her arms came more fully around his shoulders, reaching far enough for her fingers to slide their way into the curls at the nape of his neck, bringing his face closer to hers and deepening their kiss. Drawing out this one moment into three, the couple took longer than expressly necessary to pull away. 

They were finally interrupted by the sound of John coughing loudly, punctuating the silence for dramatic effect, and they let go, taking a step back from each other. But their eyes remained locked in a half lidded, wistful expression. 

Sherlock blinked rapidly, coming back to himself slightly. “The case,” he said huskily, pausing to clear his throat. “Lestrade just called, inescapable I’m afraid,” he added somberly. 

Instead of matching his disappointment, however, Molly gave a little smirk and with the lift of an eyebrow she countered, “Or I could join you? What sort of case is it?”

At this, Sherlock’s face lit up. And as his smile broke wide across his face. “If you’d like,” he answered. 

After Molly retrieved the toppled box of body parts and placed them in the freezer for safekeeping and later examination, three of them strolled off in search of a cab. 

John, the gossip, made sure to send off a text to Mary about all he had just seen, while Sherlock began to explain the particulars of the case with Molly. 

His arm wrapped protectively around her the whole time. 


End file.
